


Scars Beyond Counting

by littlebark



Series: Linette Trevelyan [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, relationships, romance ones and friendship ones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5251220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebark/pseuds/littlebark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A study of Linette Trevelyan and her relationship with Cullen. </p><p>Friendship cannot grow if there is no trust... or can it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awareness

He is everywhere, it seems. She notices the advisors more than Varric or Solas, who she can smile at with ease. Joking with Varric comes easily to her as does asking Solas endless questions. Strangely, she _trusts_ them.

She cannot trust the advisors. There's too much of a noble in her yet and she is much too aware that now she is an answer to a prayer when not even days ago she was a criminal responsible for the deaths of hundreds.

And yet… She cannot help but notice Cullen’s warm brown eyes when he looks at her, the way he hesitates when he speaks to her (is he wondering how much to say, she wonders, how much he can trust me?), how his smile is slow to start and his laugh makes it impossible for her own lips not to quirk upwards in response.

Besides all the physical aspects that she is captivated by, she is more aware of his _discipline_. She respects him for it, admires him, even when she does not trust him. He is a good Commander, a strong leader for their soldiers and Linette knows that she ought to feel safe with him at the helm. Haven is a truly a refuge, a safe place for them all thanks to the man’s knowledge.

She tries not to think too much of his Templar years, how the memories of Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall seem to hold him back. With all the reasons mages have given him to despise them, he is not cruel. He does not hold her responsible for the crime some mages have committed like so many others do merely for having magic.

A smile pulls at her lips as she spots him walking into the Chantry, hair wind blown and cheeks red with the cold. He walks out of her line of sight but she is aware of where he is, knowing that the information could save her life. Part of her feels unworthy of such a thought -he has not given her reason to mistrust, after all- but she has gone through too much to feel guilty for too long. She must think of herself first.

“Come to join me for prayers, Commander?”

*

She is the first thing he sees when he walks into the Chantry. There she is kneeled and head bowed in meditation, a small smile at her lips. He does not want to disturb her, and ducks behind her so he can move easily around her.

He is sure that she does not think he notices how stiff her back goes, how her shoulders pull back slightly, but he does. He wonders what made her so cautious when she is nothing but open and friendly. Cullen is aware the energy around her has changed, the warmth is not quite so welcoming and so he is surprised when she asks if he is joining her.

Cullen pauses for a moment before kneeling down beside her, head bowed in prayer as the Mother recites verses from the Chant of Light. From the corner of his eyes he sees her profile, the strong and delicate slope of her nose. Those almond eyes are closed, but he knows that were they open, eyes brown and dark like the richest chocolate would stare back at him. Her dark hair reminds me of a moonless night sky, it's chopped off in what appears to be layers, the longest resting at the nape of her neck. It frames her face in choppy lengths, brings out her cheekbones and again her lips curl upwards.

“Are you going to stare all day, Commander?”

Heat rises to his face and his head swings forward. “Your eyes were closed,” he accuses her, mortified when he sounds like a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar. He scowls as he shuts his eyes, removing his gauntlets as the warmth around his face only escalates.

There is humor in her voice when she says, “I could _feel_ you staring. Do I have something on my face? That happens sometimes.”

He peeks at her quickly to check, just in case there is. When there is nothing there, his scowl deepens and he hesitates. Telling her that he was staring because he can't figure her out is out of the question.

And so he gives her only half the truth. “You are looking especially beautiful today, Herald.”

Her eyes slam open. She turns to face him, but instead of flustered as he thought she would be -as he is-, she is calm. Collected. He rubs his neck with his hand and he says, “I'm sorry.”

“For?”

Cullen wants to damn the woman for making this even trickier but instead finds himself admiring her for her strength. “It was unprofessional of me. It will not happen again.”

She stares at him for a second longer, those almond shaped eyes focused on him. She stands, and he finds himself staring up at her. At the woman blessed by Andraste herself. A smile tugs at one side of her mouth, her eyes sparkling as she says, “what a shame” before walking away.

Cullen stares at the spot where the Herald had been seconds before, can still her feel lingering behind. He does not need to turn to know she is leaving. He is all too aware of her presence leaving the building, aware of how extraordinarily simple she was and yet… and yet here he is trying to hide his own smile, with the eyes of Andraste upon him.

He cannot.


	2. Bears

The smell of charred fur reaches her and she gags. With some effort, she raises her staff into the air before slamming it to the ground and calling forth a fireball that she sends the giant bear’s way, watches it with no satisfaction as it falls to the ground lifelessly.

She looks at it, feeling just as lifeless lately. Death has become a recent development in Linette’s life and she misses the days spent at the library with books around her and tea at her side. It is not another human being that lies there dead, and for that she is thankful.

It is the sixth bear they’ve killed today as they roam the Hinterlands looking for resources, for rebel mages and templars alike. Those seem to have hidden in the hills today, but it seems that every time she reaches down to collect Elfroot Cassandra has whipped out her sword and is rushing forward to defend them from yet another bear.

Linette leans against her staff, resting her sweat-soaked forehead on it as she attempts to catch her breath. Varric seems to thinking the same as her and says, “so tell me Seeker. What did all these bears do to piss you off?”

Cassandra pauses cleaning her sword mid-wipe and Linette thinks to herself that Varric is a very brave dwarf. “I beg your pardon?”

Varric points to the bear. “The bear. Clearly you have a personal grudge against them. Is it their fur? Must you prove you’re stronger than them? Is it some ancient Nevarran custom?”

Linette swallows back a laugh as Cassandra whips her head towards her. She focuses on the sky, squinting to keep the sun out. “I am protecting us,” snaps Cassandra as she slams her sword into her holster. “Do you want bears to attack our camps?”

“All I’m saying is-”

At this, Linette lifts up her hand to stop an argument. She knows Varric and Cassandra well enough now to know how long they could keep firing back at each other for. “How about we find a place to set up camp!” It’s said brightly but you would never guess it by the sound of disgust Cassandra makes as she stalks away.

Varric rolls his eyes and follows behind her. She whips out her map and marks the sixth spot today. When they finally reach camp the sun is high and hot and she wants nothing more but to bathe and soak in hot water.

“Herald,” the guards call in welcome. She breaks away from her group to tell them where they will find the bears and they say, “ _six_? Six _bears_?”

“Shhh!” she hisses frantically as she looked Cassandra’s way, who is too busy arguing with Varric to notice. “Listen, I think Cassandra hates them. I tried to avoid them but.. well. Six bears.”

Amused now, the guard grins. “What are we supposed to do with six bears, Herald?”

She lets out a huff of breath. Sending a quick prayer of wisdom to anyone at this point (Herald of Andraste she may be but she has never felt quite so alone and is beginning to question where her guiding hand is) and says, “there is a handful of hungry people at the Crossroads. Can bear meat be eaten?” At the guard’s raised eyebrows, she can feel the life of privilege she has led heavy on her shoulders. She has only had the finest meats and cheese and wines. “Bring the meat to the Crossroads,” she says with more authority in her voice.

“And the pelts?”

Linette groans inwardly, for she did not know she would have to answer every little question. Must she decide everything? “Send them to Haven to have be made into blankets. Bring half back to the Crossroads, and the rest left at Haven for any newcomers that may need them.”

“Very well, Herald.” The guard, finally satisfied, begins to call out orders to the rest.

Pleased with herself and her decision making, there is life in her step again. She thinks Cassandra will be happy with her decision, and the advisors at Haven too.

And then she thinks of Cullen, and his fur lined coat. Of how nice it looks on him. Of how huge these bears are, of how many blankets will be made because of these animals. She sends a quick prayer of thanks and then runs back to the guard. “Wait! I… four of those blankets are to go to the advisors. They put the rest of us first, it is time we show them a bit of gratitude.” She says this but she does not believe it, not completely. Linette knows she is doing them so they will trust her, so they will see she is a good person. Is it being a good person if you are doing it for selfish reasons? Is it selfish if all you want is to feel safe? She does not dwell on this too long, knows she will do so as she tries to sleep and can’t. Linette wonders if some will see it as taking away from those who need it and giving it to those who are meant to protect them. “It will make Cassandra extremely happy to know that will get to keep pummeling bears today. Any bear we find and have to kill, from this point on, will be used to feed and clothe those who need it.”

“By your will, Herald.” It is so formal, so impersonal, she thinks to herself as the man raises right fist to his left shoulder and bows slightly before walking away.

The sound of laughter and fellowship surrounds her as the soldiers joke among themselves. She knows that if she walks over, right now, and cracks a joke -no matter how terrible it may be- they will laugh. Because they believe her their savior.

She is no one’s savior. There are no saviors, there are only people who set out to do good and succeed. She will keep their people warm and fed, no matter how many bears she must charr and rams she must stun before a well placed arrow from Varric ends it life. The thought makes her slightly queasy, but she pushes it away as she makes her way to her group. “Good news!” she says with a smile, “we get go kill more bears, if we run into them”.

“Whatever happened to ‘skirt around them’?” Solas asks.

“There are cold and hungry people we must take care of. We can’t just focus on killing the bad guys. We have to think of the people as well.”

Solas seems slightly taken back but he nods his head slightly in consent.

Varric sighs deeply as he straps Bianca to his back. “You hear that, Seeker? We get to do your favorite thing ever and kill some bears.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes, picks up her shield and walks away, muttering under breath about intolerable dwarfs.

*

“Commander! Package for you!”

Cullen turns around, surprised. He does not know anyone who would send him anything, not here. It is thick bundle of fur, bound together with leather. He accepts the fur with a grunt, sees the parchment on top and tells his second-in-command to keep the troops practicing.

He makes it to the house assigned to him by a very pushy Josephine, though he rarely spends any time there, before the blushing begins. He sets the fur on the bed and lifts the parchment up. On the top half it has his name in her elegant scrawl, and when he opens it all it says is:

_Don’t argue. Stay warm._

_L._

The Inquisition soldiers first brought six bears, and then five more and then ten. Blankets were made, people were fed and they now had enough leftover to start making clothing out of it. People were warm and happy and because of it they thanked the Maker and Andraste, and of course, her Herald.

_Stay warm._

He is not surprised by her thoughtfulness, has read Leliana’s report on her life at the Ostwick circle. Cullen knew she was open and friendly by nature, willing to help out and as such, she had had an easy life at the Circle. Her status as a noble had not hurt, and it has helped her in this new world where she navigates political waters with ease. They could not have asked for a better Herald, and he believed it truly was the Maker giving them a helping hand.

  _Don’t argue._

He didn’t want to. He knew their people were fed and clothed. Knew Trevelyan had made sure of that before sending this blanket. A mage she may be but she was quickly becoming a friend, any mistrust he felt upon meeting her quickly falling away.

_“I hope they’re right about you. We’ve lost a lot of good people getting you here.”_

_“I’ll do what I can.”_

And she had. Time and time again, she proved herself over and over again.

Tucking the card in his desk, Cullen left the blanket on his bed and walked to the Chantry, and it’s war room. “I think we should make sure there is a blanket waiting for Trevelyan when she gets back.”

Leliana looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

Josephine smiled. “You got one too then? Leliana and I were just remarking on her thoughtfulness.”

Cullen blinked, momentarily surprised. Of course she had given one to them as well. They were very important arms of the Inquisition, just as he was. “I.. Yes. I did. I think-”

“Already on it, Commander. There will be one waiting on her bed upon her arrival.”

He nods once, brusquely. “Did she write to tell you not to argue too, then?”

Leliana smiled slightly. “She did not write anything with my blanket. You, Josie?”

He hates their all too sweet smiles, knows what they’re thinking. He nods again before Josephine can argue and walks out of the room feeling lighter than he’d felt in days. Feeling guilty for doing so.

She was the Herald. Blessed by Andraste herself.

He was no one.

 


End file.
